


Like Rosie

by LittleGreenPlasticSoldier



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean bakes, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Loss of vehicle, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 07:42:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5577100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleGreenPlasticSoldier/pseuds/LittleGreenPlasticSoldier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You have to sell you beloved car and Dean helps you feel better.  </p><p>Reader request!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Rosie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [frecklesgonewild](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=frecklesgonewild).



You’re giving yourself a bit of time in the garage.  Just half a hour or so, which you figure was closer to an hour now (maybe more?), to look at the space where Rosie used to be and just… Twelve years is a long time to have a car. You know you’ll need another ride, and soon. You can’t afford to take your time but you don’t want some rebound junker, and no pathetic make-do plastic cut-out.  You want a car that’s worthy of all that you do and the people who’ll sit in it.  You want Rosie back.

…

The guy at the wreckers didn’t have to be such a douche.  

“Can I get a moment?” you’d asked, not even hesitating.

“What?” he scoffed, grey cigarette bouncing on his stringy lip.  “With you _car?”_

“Yeah, just a moment with- with my car?” you repeated.

“Whatever,” he scowled, “but I’m moving it in 15.  After that I’ll be charging by the hour.”

You scowled back and decided to get out there for your last 15 with the sweetest ride you’d ever known.

They followed you out and - as you sat there one last time running your hands over the wheel and feeling the contours of the seat, remembering all the late nights and chats and food wrappers and sing-alongs - you heard Dean comment to him, “You didn’t have to be such a douche.”

Yeah.

…

Now you’re staring at her old space, trying to imagine a different car, something that suits the gap beside Baby and will work for the job.  Something with a decent trunk and a tenacious engine… ah, you just can’t stomach it yet.  Another 10 minutes had got you no glory, so off you go, kicking the concrete and trying not to trip over your bottom lip.

You find Dean in the kitchen, cleaning up some mess that mostly gets between you and some comfort food.

“There you are,” he cheers, “let me clean up.”

“What?” you grumble.  “What for?”

“I got a surprise for you,” he says proudly, which sucks coz you don’t really have any surplus thanks today.  

“Oh,” you muster some pitch, “yey! I mean, yeah!  That sounds good.”

He glances at you in sympathy and goes to the fridge, pulling out a cake.  It’s iced white with some brown lines over the top and when he places it before you - well, no, _several seconds_ after he places it before you - your brain pieces together all the stripes and dots into a kind of car.  Presumably your car… going really fast?  Sideways?

“Oh!” you say, meaning to add more but you distract yourself with the idea that if you get closer to the benchtop and look at it from an angle it’s like Rosie but from the ground, sorta…

Dean’s watching you with an intense frown.

“Oh wow!” you try again.  “That’s my car!”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugs. “I haven’t drawn with icing before. And I’m not that much of an artist-”

“No that’s definitely Rosie.  ’S'not anyone else,” you assure, somewhat weakly.

He looks at you and your pathetic attempt at gratitude.  You almost wince, twisting it into a feeble smile instead.

You suck in a breath and declare “I’m taking a picture.”

“What, no-”

“I’m _taking_ a picture.  That’s special, that is.” You pull your phone from your pocket.

“Yeah, okay, there’s no need-”

“Get out of the light,” you wave him off and snap a shot from above. “Actually, I might just…” you mutter and lower the phone, angling a shot across the top of the shiny surface.

“Yeah, _okay_ ,” Dean gripes, shifting the cake away, “ _Thank you_.”

“What?!” you cry. “I want to capture the… special.”

You chew your lips and hold your breath.

Dean glares at you, unaware of his own pout.  “You’re special,” he grumbles.

“Oookay,” you put your hands up in surrender.  “Okay, I’m sorry.  It smells delicious and dude, icing is _hard_.  I love it.”

“Icing _is_ hard…” he takes a deep breath and sigh at the stripes. “…Looks like I did it on a boat.”

You nod.  “In a storm.”  

He flicks a glare at you from under his brow but he’s smirking too.  You smirk back and it lightens you.

“Really Dean, you’ve been awesome.  This would’ve been so much harder without you.” You take his hand and squeeze as you say “I really appreciate it.  Really.”  And he squeezes back.

You look at him hopefully, tilting your head further and further until he cracks a proper smile and, to your relief, pulls you in for a hug.  Those big meaty arms and warm chest help, stealing moments of your attention with his form so close and comforting.  You close your eyes and feel his heavy, warm hand smooth down your hair.

“I was trying to think of the next… trying to move on a bit,” you say.

“Naw,” he strokes again, talking into your forehead, “too soon.  How about you drive Baby for a while until someone turns up.”

“Really?” you look up at him in surprise, letting your belly lean on his.  “You’d let me drive Baby? Without you?”

“Sure,” he smiles at you, shrugging a little, “You’re great with her.”  He watches your smile spread, and tries to smother his own when he adds quietly “And she loves you…”

He pauses, or you pause.  Someone’s breath catches and stumps you both.

You put your forehead to his chest and let it all out through tight, hopeful lips. “Yeah… got someone special there.”

He drops his head down by yours, pulls you tight, and then a kiss - that’s a kiss, you’re sure of it – a kiss on your ear.  “Sure do.”


End file.
